Musa Moses
He moved here to become a pilot and learn more Mandarin. I’m not sure what got him to come to his first Swahili meeting. Being from Kenya he was taught both Swahili and English along with his smaller tribal language, Kikuyu. He started to come to the Monday night meetings early like I did. Quiet and shy is his nature, so it was good that it was just me and him. It gave me time to break through that shell. Over the first few weeks I learned about some of his life, and he taught me a few Swahili words. He also expressed to me how scared he was of going on the stage. Little did he know what the next year and few months would hold for him.
We started trying to have Swahili nights. Asa, Rachel, Musa, and myself. They never went far, but it was valuable time for us to get to know each other. We learned about his eating habits. Whole cooked chickens and broccoli were all it sounded like he ate. I remember the first time we made fajitas at Asa’s house. Super simple: cooked chicken and sautéed peppers and onions. I guess living in Texas and being around Mexican food has made me forget that others haven’t experienced it. So I had to show him how to make his first fajita. I think he liked it; I don’t think he liked the tamales he had a few weeks later though.
It was at one of these Swahili nights that the topic of driving to Arizona to see Kevin came up. It looked like it would be just Seth, Asa, and I. So we invited Musa. It was with little hesitation that he agreed to go. We ironed out more details and got our days together. “I’m kinda confused about Moses coming…” said Kevin the next time we Skyped. I assured him it would be cool. On that trip we got closer to Musa and found out how funny he can be when you are listening to what he is saying. He taught us about Project Friday and how any day can be a project if you want it to be. We hiked in barren places and swam in flowing rivers. He ‘lost’ his glasses at a disc golf course and proceeded to run the whole course looking for them. Hint: they were at Kevin’s house. We spent nights all talking to him about American girls and his future plans.
Musa is a hard worker. I don’t know any other way to put it. Even with all his anxieties he will never say no to an assignment. He became a vital part of our congregation when he took over translating duties for English parts. There is no better way to get over a fear of the stage than by being on it every single meeting. He has now given two full public talks; from what I understood of them, they went great. For our one day special assembly he translated a few of the parts. The whole time pioneering and keeping a great, happy, willing spirit. He is currently helping out with the Dallas Swahili group as well. He is boundless.
So that’s why I am sad to see him go home. Over the last year he has become a close friend and an excellent brother. He has inspired me to keep facing my fears when they arise. He has helped me with every single part I have ever given in Swahili, so warning: everyone, they might start getting worse. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him to move across the world to a place like Texas. I hope that it has become a second home for him though. That his time here was well spent. I will miss you, Musa River Basket Mwangi. I know that this isn’t the end of my story with him though — it’s only the beginning.